


Restoration

by Yaxley



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Canon, Canon Compliant, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-16
Updated: 2016-04-16
Packaged: 2018-06-02 14:15:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6569467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yaxley/pseuds/Yaxley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“It was good while it lasted though.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Erwin tipped his mug towards Armin. “It was. To better times.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>And Armin clinked it with his own, even though it wasn’t clear whether Erwin meant the far past of slaying titans and battles and the honeyed taste of victory, or the lulling quietude of a lambent sun on sprawling unmarked fields. “Cheers.”</i>
</p><p>The war is over but they're still fighting to survive within the unknown. In a research outpost by the sea, two men struggle to make sense of the new world and their place within it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Restoration

Slanted from a distance, the afternoon sun was a thin gauzy sheet laid upon his back; there was a hushed warmth even as the wind carried with it the sweetened saltiness of the Sea. The cool current lapped against Armin’s thighs as he steadied himself against the shell of a shipwreck hull, his gaze feasting upon the curious rocky scabs crusted upon each weathered rib. He hadn’t needed to wander far to chance upon the new discovery — only a mile from the main foreshore, a short walk from the camp. No, that wasn’t precisely the correct word anymore: it might’ve once been little more than a temporary fascination, but their ragtag group of explorers had since turned the research outpost into a village of its own. 

While most of the researchers swarmed together at meal times to share news, during the day they dispersed to indulge in their own interests. Armin squinted against the glittering sand for a moment. It was not, however, entirely unexpected to spot the tall figure approaching along the beach.

“Commander!”

The figure waved then stepped into the water and began to wade toward the nesting hulk of wood. "You know better than to call me that," he said. 

“Old habits,” Armin replied with a half-shrug softened by a smile. “Erwin.”

“New beginnings,” countered Erwin easily. He scrubbed absently at his growing beard, scrutinising the skeletal hull with calculating appraisal. “Yet you’re fossicking around ancient ruins when there are a million new discoveries to make.”

"Nine hundred and ninety-nine thousand, nine hundred and ninety-nine discoveries, it turns out. Look." Armin pointed to the small, oval ridged rocks that clung to the wood like remnant pieces of cement render. He prodded at one of them. There was a slight give, then the rock split open to reveal a pale fleshiness within. "I think it's alive."

Erwin came closer to inspect the living rock. "Remarkable," he murmured. "Another for your collection. We're going to need a larger research building."

"There's no rush just yet," Armin laughed. He took out a knife and carefully wedged it underneath the rock. It popped out into his waiting hand. "Better to get the new barracks done first. To be honest, taking up such a large building simply to house samples seems an extravagant waste of space already."

With the war against the titans finally over and buried, the first settlement projects had departed within the year and were reporting widespread success through the new lands, although none had ventured so far away from the Walls as their research exploration force. It had taken over two months of travelling deep into the unknown but they'd finally found it: the Sea. 

Long, winding stretches of golden sand speckled under the sun, melting into the blue-green water that lounged far beyond the horizon.

They'd settled on this piece of coastline a little under a year ago. It was temperate, warm, the landscape entirely foreign from anything they'd known before. Their location was remote, otherworldly, almost deathly still apart from the lulling waves pulsing against the shore. Thick, low scrub covered the dry, coarse soil and spindly trees pierced against the jagged landscape. Arable land was scarce. It was a terrible place to set up a colony but perfect for those with an adventurer's spirit. 

It was a hauntingly beautiful sight. 

"Samples are rather the point."

“That’s generous of you to say.” Armin watched as Erwin ran his hand along the elegant curve of an arching wooden beam. He cleared his throat uneasily. “I take it this structure is a vital piece of your shipwreck.”

His expression carefully neutral, Erwin nodded. There was a passing hint of the military tactician. “It is likely,” he replied lightly, in a tone that suggested it was perfectly obvious. 

Together, they stared at the strange rocks crusted onto the sea-soaked planes of wood and the occasional bubble of air that escaped from their slitted openings. Armin too was capable of playing the waiting game, and busied himself with plopping the sample into a glass jar with exaggerated insouciance. 

“These rock creatures…”

"Dilemma," Armin agreed readily, humming as he visibly counted each individual shell. 

For a moment it seemed that Erwin would push the issue but then he grunted. "I suppose the ship can wait," he muttered, turning away to retreat to dry land. 

Armin stifled his victorious grin. "Thank you."

When the sun began to set and the glow from firelight blossomed from the barrack windows, Armin collected his day's work and returned to the main hub at the centre of town. 

The scouts returned just before nightfall, hailed by a great thundering from the inky black horizon followed by whooping and laughter. Armin received them with relief, smiling as he counted as many that had left a week ago prior. Most of the scouting team were ex-Survey Corps — there was something about the lure of danger, he supposed — and moreover they were his friends. 

“Any luck?” he called, taking hold of the reins belonging to the lead horse. 

“Yeah, we just found the next farmland settlement, maybe,” said Eren, jumping down from his mount and crushing Armin in a hug. “There’s a huge gorge behind it too. Would’ve been great to push through and explore that.”

Armin returned the hug. “Next time.” He turned and welcomed Mikasa too when she dismounted. His friends had grown closer in the months immediately following the end of the war, a consequence of relief and anticipation that finally culminated in a natural transition to lovers. 

“Yeah, next time you’re definitely coming," said Eren. 

"I'll consider it," Armin replied, even though they both knew that it wasn't likely to happen, not when the haunting beauty of the Sea remained a mystery. "I'll take your horses. There's dinner in the hall."

They nodded to him gratefully and in high spirits entered the boisterous cacophony of the hub. Armin led the horses to the stable at the far end of the village, which afforded him a magnificent view of the rolling coastline. As he brushed down Mikasa's light-footed bay, he could see the unmistakeable form of Erwin climb the sandy embankment hauling a slender wooden beam into the workshop by the shore.

* * *

Sawdust littered the floor of the workshop only to be carried away by the sea breeze. Armin approached the entrance with a still-steaming pot in his arms and watched silently as Erwin carefully notched out measurements along the stripped plank of wood. After a few seconds the aroma from the pot filled the air, causing Erwin to glance up. 

"Peace offering," said Armin. 

"You made this?" Erwin followed him onto the deck and gratefully accepting a bowl of the stew. 

“Turns out the rock creatures are quite tasty,” Armin replied instead. "Sasha thinks they'll make for good smoking."

Erwin glanced over his shoulder for a moment. "You're welcome to the chips. Plenty of off-cuts."

"Much appreciated." The stew was hardly gastronomical mastery but at least it was mildly palatable. Armin gulped it down in much the way he used to forced down the muesli gruel from training. And if Erwin thought the same, he made no mention of it. They ate to the music of rolling waves pouncing upon the shore. 

"How's the restoration?" Armin asked, when he came to the end of his bowl. 

"Making slow progress."

A shipwreck had lodged deep into the sand like a slumbering beast, untouched by human hands for well over a century until Erwin announced over breakfast a few months prior that he was embarking upon a new project. With only a cursory knowledge of mechanical repairs amongst the researchers, shipbuilding was not an endeavour heartily welcomed by all. But it was one of the great mysteries of their world, and spoke volumes of the perilous journey made by their ancestors to escape from the titans, and Armin could, perhaps more than most, appreciate the importance of uncovering its secrets. 

"It'll look a wonder when it's complete," he said. "A vital part of our heritage that we can pass down to future generations as an example of the ingenuity of our forebears."

“Humanity’s finest hour,” replied Erwin tightly. "Tea?"

"Yes, please. Running from danger is the natural response for human beings. Racing towards danger is considered absurd by most." 

Erwin disappeared into the back of the workshop, mumbling under his breath what he thought about the opinions of most. After some tinkering with canisters and jugs, he emerged with two cups of tea so strong it was near black, and just as acerbic. 

"Sugar?" asked Erwin belatedly, barely sparing a glance at Armin. 

"No need," Armin coughed. "Not everyone's as suicidal as the Survey Corps."

"Enterprising," Erwin corrected, and Armin laughed out loud. "Is this why we've insisted on staying on this forsaken land?"

Armin sipped at his bitter tea, making a face. "The beauty is in the challenge."

* * *

At Eren's insistence, Armin rode out with them toward the gorge in order to determine the surrounding land's viability for farming. The ground underfoot was hard and brittle, punishing on the horses' joints. Loose rocks wedged into their horses' hooves and every mile or so, they had to halt with picks in hand. Armin drank from his canteen, taking care to dole out the provisions for the remainder of the journey, as he waited. 

"It'll be sundown before we even reach the river," Eren said in an undertone, sidling his horse up alongside Armin. The frustration was clear in his voice, the tenseness with which he held the reins, as though he were keeping himself in permanent check from blazing through the scrub. 

"It is dry," Armin agreed with a thin-lipped smile. They'll be needing to refuel shortly. "When the farmlands are set up, there'll be no need to cross by the coastal route. That's some consolation." 

Eren snorted. "Some. What I wouldn't do for a Corps horse right now."

"Your Corps horse would refuse to traverse this kind of terrain." Mikasa came up to Armin's other flank, and gave him a smile. "Tell him pining after the old days isn't as interesting as he thinks."

"She has a point."

"Traitor." To punctuate his point, Eren dug in his heels and spurred his horse ahead of the pack, kicking up a cloud of dust that left the rest of them coughing into their arms and squinting through the ochre haze. 

Groaning audibly, Mikasa shared a glance with Armin. "Childish," she muttered with a half-grin. "Come on."

Together, they raced after Eren, their horses surging through the dust and picking through the compacted dirt. His horse was slower, a pack horse bred to carry cargo long distances and unused to short bursts of energy. Armin knew that Mikasa was holding back on his behalf, but he didn't mind as much as it once would have; he simply enjoyed the companionable thrum of hoofbeats beside him, the snapping of Mikasa's beloved red scarf in the corner of his eye. Gone were the days where Armin was the one left behind. In the wake of peacetime, brains were more sought after than brawn and suddenly, Armin was thrust ahead of his peers. 

It wasn't that he hadn't enjoyed the taste of authority, but after the constant hounding by politicians and inexplicably asinine questions from the incompetent, Armin had been relieved to set off away from the braying voices to embrace the wide open road, if it meant that he was again simply one of many, just another curious mind in a torrent of enthusiasm for the new. 

Up ahead, Eren had slowed down for the rocky descent toward the river crossing. It would be another hour’s ride at least before they got their feet wet, but just the short run across the plains had brought them good time. Catching up to where Eren had dismounted to more carefully pick over the steep incline, Armin drew in a sharp breath as he surveyed the view below. 

They were up dizzyingly high without ever being aware of it, and the landscape that spread out before him was magnificent, like something from a dream. The crackling dry trees appeared like a blanket of grey-blue rolled out as far as the eye could see, the river a mere suggestion of a snake winding through thickets. His friends came to stand beside him, grins adorning both their faces. 

"Just stunning," Armin breathed. 

"Yeah, it's pretty incredible. Look, that's the patch of land I was talking about. What do you think?"

Armin's heart sank a little when he saw the indicated land. It was flat, unobstructed by large trees or the need to move heavy boulders, but the grasses upon it were pale golden yellow rather than the lush green he'd been hoping for. 

"It's worth a try," he said, keeping his tone upbeat. "And with the river so close by, we can dig trenches to irrigate the fields." Never mind that the river barely looked large enough to sustain itself to the mouth.

It appeared that Mikasa had the same thought. "If we have enough leftover to drink from."

"We'll manage. There must be water underground too."

A piercing scream came from behind them, soaring over the treetops, a thin sound that echoed back against them again and again. It sounded distinctly human. 

"What was that?" Without waiting for a reply, Eren leapt onto his horse and whirled around to the direction from which they'd come. The sound came once more, coloured with intense urgency. "Shit."

Armin hastened to mount, abandoning his thoughts about the farmland, and spurred his horse into action. Ahead, Mikasa had already given swift chase and was barrelling through the prickly bushes. Clinging to his horse as they pounded the earth back to the rest of the researchers, Armin felt the familiar tug of adrenaline deep inside his belly, drawing him back into the jaws of a titan. His fingers tightened around the reins, thighs clamped hard around his horse as they tackled the unforgiving land. Every dip in the ground left him breathless, almost eager. He had to bite down the rush that coursed through him, beat away the shameful addiction that until that moment he'd thought contained. 

"Oh." The faint sound escaped his lips before he could help it when he happened upon the scene, just in time to see Eren draw the pistol from his side holster and aim it squarely at the beast lunging at one of the researchers. 

A sharp, unflinching bang sliced through the air. Another immediately followed. 

Mikasa’s own pistol didn’t waver as she manoeuvred her horse closer to the fallen beast, inspecting it with a steely gaze. 

“We stopped for a quick break. Cale’s horse had thrown a shoe. Then these blasted monsters came from nowhere and attacked him. Petre tried to fend them off but—” A helpless gesture toward the jammed pistol. “It was so quick.”

More cautiously, Armin nudged his own horse toward the horrid mess of torn flesh a short distance away. He dismounted and crouched over, warm blood running rivets across his fingers as he felt for a pulse, although already knowing the action to be futile. There was nothing to be done except bundle up what had once been a colleague. One of the others was sick into the nearby bushes, the acidic stench making Armin’s stomach churn, but he swallowed hard against the nausea and simply wrapped the oilcloth tighter about the corpse. 

“I didn’t know what to do. I’m so sorry. I just — just panicked.”

In his periphery, he was dimly aware of Eren and Mikasa discussing the two dog-like beasts that lay at the side of the track. Someone helped him heave the body onto the horse and secure it with more rope. A sickening lurch in the stomach caught him off guard. It’d been ten years since embarking on a military career; he’d thought that death would seem matter of course by now, and was both horrified and relieved to find that it was not. 

Two of the other researchers had been wounded in the attack, but were managing to cling to their horses in spite of the ashen colour in their faces. Armin didn’t want to say anything but the odds were not favourable considering the sizeable wounds inflicted. Stark red blood oozed through the bandages. 

They picked up their pace considerably for the silent journey back to the outpost. It took all of Armin’s determination not to be bothered by the lack of a weapon strapped to his side, and the way his fingers suddenly itched for a cold, hard trigger of a gun. Finally seeing the flickering, dancing lights of the barracks in the distance was a welcome sight. 

“Medics, quickly.”

“Lay them here.”

The wounded were rapidly ushered into the building and into the light. One, Lisbet, could not be stirred into consciousness, while the other groaned in agony with each push and pull. A crowd gathered. Various medical supplies were swiftly passed back and forth across Armin’s vision. A bandage. A pair of scissors. Antiseptic wash. Faces blurred as they spoke over the top of him, their voices blending into a grating song. He ought to help but instead simply stared at the mass of people without really seeing. 

A calm, sonorous voice cut through the babble. “Explain the situation.”

“—attacked by a wild dog—”

“— _two_ of them!”

“—so much blood everywhere—”

Without warning, a pair of slate blue eyes had fixed upon him, and Armin’s breath caught in his throat. Crouched on the other side of the still, pallid body, Erwin looked up from his initial survey of the damage and gave Armin a barely imperceptible nod of expectation. 

Somehow, Armin found himself again. 

“Bite marks to the lower abdomen extending into the muscle with superficial lacerations to the torso. Significant blood loss, likely due to the severing of a major vein.” With difficulty, he tore his gaze away. Behind him, he heard a tortured wail signifying the fate of the other casualty. “We can try to stem the ble—”

“Can you sew him back up?” Erwin directed his question to the medic, who hesitated for a full second. “Do your best. Let’s give him some relief for the pain, as well. Everybody else, move back, we’re going to need some space. Only people with medical training are to remain.”

Armin had treated enough minor scrapes out in the field to plausibly pass as being medically trained but the thought of lingering, just to watch another human being feebly struggle against the futility of death, brought about a fresh wave of nausea. He left behind the squeal of blood in favour of the cool evening air. 

A crowd lingered near the entrance to await the news but Armin ignored their inquisitive stares and slipped around the back of the building to the terrace, where his friends had gathered in a tight circle with solemn faces. They made room for Armin as he approached, so he sat amongst them and half-listened to the discussions about how to best dispatch the wild dogs, but mostly thought about how unfair it seemed that even after the titans, humans remained so fragile. 

“Heading to bed, Armin?”

Forcing a smile, Armin shook his head. “Checking up on the horses.”

“They’re fine. Connie and I saw to them earlier,” said Sasha. 

“Oh.” Armin looked out toward the Sea and felt the inexplicable pull upon him again. “I might just go for a walk then. Alone,” he added quickly, when Eren started to stand. 

“Right. Be careful,” said Eren, this time more seriously than all the other reiterations of the same phrase they’d once said to one another. There was an edge to his voice that didn’t suit him. “Here, take my pistol.”

The cool metal warmed quickly in Armin’s tight grip. “Thanks.”

* * *

Armin finalised his letters to the families of the deceased outlining the logistical difficulties in transporting the bodies back to the Walls, sent them on the day of the funeral, and life lumbered on in the dry heat. 

After a week, the salt water tank dominating the far wall of the research building turned murky and no amount of prodding or half-muttered pleas could coax the rock creatures back to life.

“That’s only going to attract scavengers,” said Eren, when he found Armin digging a shallow trench out the back of the building. 

“I gave them names,” replied Armin with a grimace. “Rookie mistake.”

* * *

He took a direct path to the beach, tromping down the dry, spiky grasses to the fine, loose sand. 

A heavy moon hung above, lighting up the ground and glittering off each undulation of the waves. It was funny how loud the Sea became in the night-time, moaning and grumbling its ancient tune. He dipped down to the wet, glistening sand and allowed the water to brush over the tips of his boots. 

A spectacularly large wave formed in the distance, growing higher and higher as it approached like a wall of darkness. Armin watched it roll towards him coolly, as though he might stare it down in a game of dare, but the wave didn’t falter and Armin conceded defeat. He hurriedly retreated inland, a shiver running down his spine as the wave crashed onto the shore with a great roar. 

On his way back to the barracks, he noticed that the workshop remained lit up like a beacon and his legs carried him there before he was even aware of it. 

Erwin stooped over his bench, sanding down a curve in his latest acquisition from the sea. A thin sheen of sweat gathered on his forehead. 

When it seemed that Armin’s company was completely unwanted, Erwin suddenly asked, “Tea?”

“Yeah, all right,” said Armin. 

There was nowhere to sit in the workshop so Armin leaned against the work bench, hands tucked around the hot mug. He shuffled a little to make room for Erwin beside him, then took a sip. It burned down his throat and left a distinct aftertaste of whiskey on his tongue. 

“Nice touch,” he said.

“You’re welcome.”

Silence descended between them like fragments of dust. Armin nursed his toddy slowly, almost cautiously; it took him a while to realise that he didn’t want to see the bottom of the mug. His eyes raked over the elegant arches of the ship but didn’t miss the white powder crusting the wood. 

“It’s coming along,” he said finally. “Going to be seaworthy in no time.”

Erwin took a slow, deep mouthful of his drink before answering. “That’s a charitable thought.” He made a semi-amused, mostly derisive sound through his nose. “You could take her out to catch giant sea monsters.”

“Don’t mock me.”

“I’m not.” There was a pregnant pause; Erwin cast him a side-long glance. “You don’t mean to say that you haven’t yet seen the sea monsters? Armin, they’re visible from the shore.” Chuckling a little under his breath, Erwin turned to face him and Armin glanced over with a growing awareness of how _bright_ Erwin’s skin looked in the lamplight. “You’re not looking out far enough into the distance.”

A tremor passed through him in spite of the mild night air. He understood perfectly Erwin’s meaning but the words still managed to sting. “As far as criticisms go, that’s one of the more mild ones I’ve heard of late.” He faltered a little under Erwin’s impassive stare and hurriedly returned his attention to the rest of the tea. “The incident with the wild dogs has got the others spooked. To be honest, it never occurred to me that I’d ever have to look at another mangled, bloodied body. How naive.”

“Most people don’t live in expectation of the next sight of blood.”

“True.” Armin noted that his mug was almost empty and mourned it pre-emptively. “It was good while it lasted though.”

Erwin tipped his mug towards Armin. “It was. To better times.”

And Armin clinked it with his own, even though it wasn’t clear whether Erwin meant the far past of slaying titans and battles and the honeyed taste of victory, or the lulling quietude of a lambent sun on sprawling unmarked fields. “Cheers.”

He drained his mug in a single go; as he watched Erwin do the same, their gazes met over the top of the rim. Armin swallowed, mind growing more resolute by each fraction of a second, and bolstered by a kind of oblique compulsion for those remnants of the past, he set aside his mug with deliberate lightness and pressed his lips against Erwin’s own, warm, soft, yielding but distant. 

Only when Erwin shifted, a movement reminiscent of a restless horse swaying its weight, that Armin startled out from the swirling haze of his not-quite-dream, like breaking the water’s surface to take a shuddering, gasping breath. 

He found himself gripping the front of Erwin’s cambric shirt and abruptly let go. Unable to look Erwin in the eye, Armin stuffed his trembling hands into his pockets and turned away. 

“Well,” he said tightly, cursing the ensuing turgid, expectant silence. The back of his neck burned with shame and horror. 

Mercifully, Erwin put him out of his misery. “Good night, Armin.”

* * *

Armin had only vague memories of crop fields in full health and vigour, wedged in between memories of his parents and the memory of the first time he held a twinset of military paring blades. The rest was pure imagination sprung from ancient songs: golden fields swaying in a warm breeze, succulent fruits ripening under the sun, dancing through towering stalks of grass. 

Crouching onto his haunches, he pinched some loose soil and rolled the crumbs between his fingertips. It dissolved into dust. Beside him, Eren sneezed. 

“Basically, we’re fucked,” was his declaration. 

“Don’t be such a pessimist.” Hiding a reluctant frown, Armin straightened and wiped his grubby hands onto his trousers, leaving behind ochre smears. “It’s early days yet.” 

Eren huffed in laughter. “Is this the pragmatist talking or the romantic?” He waited until Armin finished scooping a soil sample into a jar, then they began the journey back to the village. A couple of the others remained behind to sift through the jagged rows of crisp-dry crops for morsels of edible vegetable, but Armin wasn’t too hopeful. 

Still, he muttered, “I’ve never been a romantic.”

“So sneaking out late at night isn’t considered romantic anymore?” Catching sight of Armin’s startled face, Eren openly chortled. “Here’s a tip. Wear soft-soled shoes if you want to evade detection.”

Regulating his breathing was easy compared to stilling the sudden spike in his pulse. “Evading detection makes it sound like I’ve got something to hide. Which I don’t,” Armin added, although a little too sharply, judging by the amused smirk creeping onto Eren’s face. “I’d rather you put your mind to other things, like how we’re going to irrigate this entire section of land.”

“I don’t know. Coming up with plans is your domain. If I was in charge of organising this expedition we wouldn’t have made it a day past from the Wall.” The air began to thicken with the heat from the sun but Eren continued to grin in good humour. “Anyway, whatever you get up to in the middle of the night is entirely your business—”

Armin swiftly cut in, “Do you ever miss the Wall?”

“No. Smooth.”

“I try. Not at all?”

Eren kicked at a stray rock in the middle of the track, making a face. “Some people, yeah maybe, but mostly no. We fought so hard to be free that it’s almost ungrateful to want to remain inside of that cage. It’s like all our sacrifices were for nothing. That’s why we have to try and make things work, you know? Even though it’s been one fucking disaster after another, we still have to keep trying.”

“Maybe some people are simply afraid of the unknown.”

“What could possibly be more frightening than a fifty-meter sentient giant kicking brick and mortar to pieces. At least out here we haven’t had to resort to cannibalism.”

“Can I put you in charge of raising morale when things get bad?”

At that, Eren snorted. “I’m definitely over-qualified. What’s going on?”

Nearing the beachfront, they scanned the foreshore where a group of people had gathered, and collectively shielded their eyes against the sun. It looked like a comical salute to the glittering waves. Their pace quickened immediately to a brisk stroll but as with riding horses imbued with a competitive spirit, they soon found themselves jogging along the wearing trail before breaking into a sprint, buoyed by dread. 

A great commotion roared from the beach. Armin hopped down the grassy bank, spraying dry sand over his legs. At first he struggled to make sense of the situation: people swarming with nets, buckets, ropes, even spare bedsheets, dashing in and out of the water, and all the while shouting over the top of one another. His breath caught at the back of his throat. He startled when a heavy hand clapped on his shoulder. When he turned, he saw Eren’s beaming face. 

“Isn’t it great?” Eren shouted at him. “Come on!”

“What?” Armin looked again and the scene seemed to stretch, linger, as treacle. People were grinning and laughing as they trampled into the sea, waves splashing thick up to their thighs. He saw the glint of silver, the flicker of a razor edge course the lip of the water, then another and another. “Oh.” An entire school of fish had barrelled straight up to the deep trench of the shore, enough fish to ease the stretch on resources. 

Deep in the fray, Erwin’s solid figure emerged from the mess of running bodies, his arm outstretched as he commandeered a line of seine netting with as much determination as when he once shaped the sprawl of soldiers across uncharted territory. 

Their two strongest swimmers were up to the chest in the Sea, dragging the winding length of net behind them in a wide arc around the flipping fish tails that peppered the water’s surface. They formed a thick crescent with the billowing net to encircle the frantic, bewildered shoal, then threw the winding ends of the ropes to the shore.

Armin caught the end of a rope. It was coarse, almost sticky in his hands. Someone joined him behind, another in front; a tug-of-war began in earnest: the exuberance of half a dozen researchers against the swelling might of the Sea. Ten yards down the shore, another team had also set up to haul in the seine — and they were, damn it, doing a much finer job of it. 

“Come on, put your back into it! Even _we’re_ embarrassed for you,” called the other team, roaring with laughter. “Losers scrub the floors for a week!” 

“This isn’t a compet—” Armin started but was abruptly cut off from all directions by raucous shouts primarily consisting of insults and jeering. A particularly vigorous tug sent Armin toppling onto his arse. 

“Armin!” Sasha whipped her head around, brown ponytail encrusted with sea water and salt. “I swear, if you condemn me to another week of scrubbing that damned floor you’re going to be licking the dirt off with your tongue instead!” 

On the other team, Connie shouted back, “It’s your own fault for failing to past muster when bringing in the food quota!”

With a furious shriek, Sasha single-handedly brought in the seine another few yards to the shore. Nonetheless, the other team were already half-way up the beach and looked set to soundly trounce them — until a solid force settled in behind Armin, hauling the rope back with ease. 

Armin glanced over his shoulder, and flushed red despite himself. 

“Shall we?” Erwin murmured, with a hint of a smile. 

“Yeah,” Armin managed to stammer out, then turned back to face the front with fresh determination and just a hint of self-consciousness. “Let’s do this.”

Despite their team’s best efforts, they still lost by a large margin but with the sound of Erwin’s deep chuckle as they collapsed into the sand from exhaustion, and the sight of bucket after bucket of glimmering fish reaped from the Sea, Armin found that he didn’t mind at all.

* * *

Erwin slammed the mackerel head down onto a jutting nail, piercing clean through the lustrous eye, and with a practiced flick of the knife, mulberry-hued guts slopped into the bucket. Then he tossed the last fish into the awaiting brine-filled barrel. His blood-stained hand left an imprint on the lid as he sealed it up, and he quirked an eyebrow towards Armin. 

Sharing a mutual grimace, they descended to the water and dipped in their hands. The blood washed clean off without resistance.

* * *

A hastily constructed smokery was erected overnight and steadily puffed applewood smoke across the blue sky. Racks of butterflied fish hung like pamphlets stapled to a notice board, skins shrivelling from the dry inland wind. Trickles of brine sloughed off the salting benches and into the sand below. For the most of the morning, everyone sported wrinkly fingers from the pickling mixture of pungent vinegar and salt. 

That evening, Armin executed a precise half-turn of the rotisserie over the open fire in the main dining hall. The skewered fish rightened like a row of soldiers to attention, then flopped onto their opposite side to crisp. A fresh puff of smoke and sizzling oil burst into his face, burrowing deep into his hair and his clothes. Minutes later, he slid them off the spit and onto a serving plate, and joined his friends at the table.

“You smell good enough to eat, Armin! Give me the big one.”

“At least when this lot of food runs out, we can devour Armin instead.”

“Guys, please.”

“Too soon?”

Accompanied by the bulk of the remaining stock of alcohol and with fish aplenty to fill up hungry bellies, everyone was in high spirits. Armin doled out the roasted fish and eagerly speared into his own. The flesh was sweet and tender, imbued with lemon myrtle, and easily the best meal he’d had in months. He moaned softly then flushed a little in embarrassment but he needn’t have bothered since everyone else was too busy chowing down their own food to notice.

The chatter rose quick and easy between them, leaping from topic to topic. On the neighbouring tables, diners had taken to roaring bawdy tavern songs while others conducted a mock ceremony involving the fishbones of a particularly large specimen. By comparison, the impromptu eating competition between Marlow and Connie was positively tame. 

Next to Armin, Eren finished up his plate and sat back with a pleased sigh, absently rubbing at his stomach. “Things are finally looking up,” he said, grinning. 

“Solves one of our problems, at least.”

“Just enjoy this moment.” Eren reached across the table for the jug of ale and slopped a generous amount into Armin’s cup. “It’s time to start drinking until you forget about soil nutrients and atmospheric aridity or whatever.”

So Armin drank and ate and laughed until his stomach ached, even as the tiniest piece of his mind remained starkly aware of Erwin sitting across the hall with the archeological team from Orvud, graciously declining an enthusiastic offer to dance from a red-faced woman. Nevertheless, the ex-commander appeared relaxed as he returned seamlessly to the conversation, elbow jutting casually against the edge of the table and head craned to listen, nodding and smiling. His shirt was wrinkled although clean, left unbuttoned at the collar in a carelessly deep v-shape that invited Armin’s lingering gaze. When Erwin rose to leave, Armin murmured his own excuses and trailed after him into the open air. The rush of warm, sticky sea-breeze was welcoming against the scorching heat and smoke from the dining hall. 

“It’s late,” Armin called, mind swimming in the few moments it took to adjust to the darkness of the night. 

A few yards ahead, Erwin halted, with the inherent ease of someone who had merely been waiting for an interruption. He turned as Armin caught up. Unlike the vast majority of others, Erwin didn’t appear the least bit intoxicated — his eyes were clear and focused, and perhaps a little sharp in appraisal. “I often see you walking along the beach late at night. Alone.”

Armin made an undignified noise, sort of a cross between a scoff and a groan, but conceded the point and followed Erwin down the worn path toward the shore. The raucous excitement from the dining hall softened with each step away. Without warning, they were enveloped by the repetitive drone of insects and the rolling of the sea, and the trudge of loosened sand underfoot. Somehow, lit only by a partially-obscured moon, the landscape remained familiar and comforting as they walked along the beach, the stillness broken by the occasional rumble from the distance of a restless wave crashing upon itself. Erwin appeared to have discarded his earlier chatty mood in favour of something more pensive, although the silence between them remained companionable. There was no need to enquire where Erwin was headed.

It nonetheless took the entire half-mile walk to the workshop, a journey coloured by writhing indecision, before Armin gathered the courage to speak up again. In the vast space, his voice travelled easily through the darkness. “I often see the light from the workshop and think about whether or not to drop by.” 

Finding it absurdly difficult to look at Erwin, even though the other man had since turned his attention to fumbling for the oil lamp, Armin instead paused beside the torn shipwreck. He breathed in the heady scent of ancient wood and salt mingled with astringent polishes and caustic acids, an uneasy marriage of the old and the new. It was a monstrous, fallen beast in the shadow, lying in wait for its second chance. Armin caressed the weathered planes of the hull to reassure himself that it remained dormant. 

“I start to walk towards it but — well.” The words lingered in the air and soured in his mouth. Armin shrugged, which was the best approximation for the towering magnitude of things he could never really admit to himself, or indeed, anyone else. 

Behind him, the metallic sounds of tinkering stopped.

“But?”

Armin turned in time to see Erwin set down the oil lamp, left unlit. It was only a soft utterance, like the murmured tail-end of an abandoned conversation, but it sent a shiver down Armin’s spine. He drew in a shallow, measured breath in a bid for control and yet the action seemed to dominate everything else; like that breath, he swelled with something dangerously akin to hope. 

“But I’m never sure whether I’d be…” Welcomed. Wanted. “Interrupting,” Armin finished lamely, determined to keep the tremor from his voice. 

The corner of Erwin’s lips lifted briefly, as though he’d found the answer vaguely amusing. Without sparing the lamp another glance, he approached Armin, the sound of his footsteps emphatic and sure. He then stood in front of Armin, the dappled dim light through the window just catching the slate blue intensity of his gaze in that fraction of a pause, before he took Armin’s cheek into his calloused palm and brushed his thumb against the curve of Armin’s cheekbone. 

It was such a small gesture but it made the hair at the back of Armin’s neck stand on edge; Armin reflexively leaned into it, unable to help the soft sigh that passed between his lips, mortified that something so utterly insignificant could affect him so monumentally. He would have laughed at the madness of it if Erwin’s lips weren’t suddenly coming closer, hovering mere inches above his own, poised on the edge of yearning. 

“I don’t leave the light on by accident,” Erwin murmured. Up this close, the difference in height was completely inconsequential, especially when Erwin’s lips fell open and he took a little hitch of breath right before he bent forward, and kissed Armin. 

It was unhurried, almost achingly slow, and far more gentle than Armin had thought possible. He’d imagined that kissing Erwin would be a little cold, stiff, as reserved as the man himself, but instead he was met with careful tenderness. He felt the hull of the ship on his back, the weight of Erwin’s body languidly press up against him, the warmth of Erwin’s lips against his own, and he met it all with a rush of exhilaration and desire and relief. 

When they broke apart, Erwin drew in a deep breath. He suddenly appeared very tired.

“You seem surprised,” he said, letting his arm drop to his side. 

“Oh.” Armin reached out to place his hands around Erwin’s waist, a burgeoning realisation that in all the seconds that had passed during the kiss, he hadn’t made any move to reciprocate. “No. Perhaps a little. The other day…” He floundered, struggling to articulate the uncertainty that had plagued him since, the humiliation and the horror that he might have offended Erwin in some way with his forwardness. “I mean, it didn’t seem that you were interested.”

The gold of Erwin’s eyelashes glimmered as he blinked, slowly. “I was caught off guard,” he replied, which Armin might have accepted if it hadn’t been for that certain practiced tone of voice, the way it was perhaps a little too smooth. 

Some inexplicable part of Armin deflated in disappointment, even as he chastised himself for it. He nodded, as casually as he could, but Erwin saw straight through him. 

“Armin,” Erwin said, so quietly it was almost a sigh. “I didn’t know what you wanted. There was this — if I may be blunt — rather half-hearted kiss and then nothing, and you looked embarrassed at having done it at all.” 

He spoke about it in a vaguely detached way, as though surveying the moment with purely clinical purpose. 

Armin opened his mouth to protest but Erwin cut him off with a small shake of the head. “Forgive me if I’m wrong but it appeared to have been an impulsive gesture, soon forgotten.”

“You were waiting.” 

When Erwin nodded, Armin’s face crumpled. Breath hitching, he searched desperately for the right things to say but nothing felt right, nothing felt enough. Racing through his mind was a dizzying blur of memory fragments and incomplete dreams and things left buried for so long they had become impossible to truly understand; the more he scrambled to make sense of it all, the more they became jumbled. “I just— I mean. I don’t— _Erwin_.”

He found himself suddenly within Erwin’s warm embrace, tucked up in the junction of Erwin’s neck and inhaling the deep, masculine scent. Erwin’s arm wrapped around him was strong and steady, and in that moment, the only thing that Armin could be certain of. Armin clutched back ferociously, drowning within that need to be closer, and allowing himself to be lulled by the rhythmic rise and fall of Erwin’s chest, the feather-light kisses that Erwin pressed against his forehead. Armin closed his eyes, willing himself to remember every second. It felt as though an eternity drifted by within a single beat of his heart. 

When he opened them again, Erwin was looking at him with a peculiar expression. 

“You still smell like smoke,” he said. 

“It has that tendency to linger.”

But something in Erwin’s posture had changed. He seemed to be breathing quite deliberately. Simultaneously, they turned to face the night. Armin withdrew himself from Erwin’s embrace and went to the edge of the workshop, squinting against the black ink of the sky and saw a great plume of ashy smoke rising, dense and stark, and dominating the entire northern aspect of the horizon. 

A bright orange flicker pierced through the grey haze, growing with each expansive gasp of the choking sky.

“It’s the smokehouse,” said Erwin, as he came to stand beside Armin, somehow able to remain chillingly calm. It became so obvious when spoken aloud. “We need to inform the others.”

Armin nodded and immediately set off toward the main dining hall, each step lengthening the distance between him and Erwin. Only when he glanced over his shoulder — a pathetic, juvenile need for reassurance — did he see Erwin’s silhouette racing toward the flames. 

“Don’t,” he started to say, faltering upon hearing the feebleness of his voice. He swallowed the rest of the sentence and pushed away the shame creeping into his churning stomach. Turning his focus to the task at hand, he covered the ground at lightning speed. 

Too busy drowning in the festivities, few people spared him a glance as Armin burst into the dining hall. Inside was so thick and cloudy with the smoke from the rotisserie that it was no wonder the alarm had not already been sounded. He made a beeline for Eren, who thankfully had caught the air of urgency as Armin sidled past the oblivious crowd, and was already rising to his feet to meet the news. 

“The smokehouse is on fire.” 

Someone from the neighbouring table let out a giant snort. “It’s supposed to!” they crowed, eliciting a round of laughter. 

“Not like that,” Armin snapped, unable to summon any remorse when the revelry promptly died. He drew in a shaky breath, audible in the startled silence. “It hasn’t rained in weeks and all that dry vegetation makes for perfect kindling. We’re going to have an inferno on our hands if we don’t put it out immediately. Eren.” He gave his friend a desperate look. 

“Got it. Let’s go.” 

People were already trickling onto the street, gasping and frozen at the sight of the little wooden hut engulfed in heavy flames. 

There was a mighty crack, and the sky erupted into a brief seismic flash of light and energy. The air around Armin disappeared for a second, then in its place was a fifteen-meter titan. In his titan form, Eren let out a bestial shriek before turning to Armin. 

“Water. Or sand,” shouted Armin, already beginning to run toward the flames. 

Eren grunted and within a few quick strides was at the beach, scooping sea water with his giant cupped hands. 

The smoke stung at Armin’s eyes; he felt them beginning to burn but it was nothing compared to the sudden torrent of heat, and the thickness of the air. Armin gasped in as much air as he could but collapsed into uncontrollable coughs. Eren had caught up and gave him a worried look but Armin shook his head, pointing.

Around the smokehouse, Erwin was frantically clearing as much debris as possible, kicking at the stray branches and pieces of leftover construction planks. He had his nose buried in the crook of his arm as he worked, hunched down to avoid the bulk of the black smoke. His face was already blackened with soot, which made the whites of his eyes appear to glow. 

“Erwin, get back!” Armin hollered, although he needn’t have bothered. Upon seeing Eren, Erwin immediately retreated to a safer distance. 

The ground trembled as Eren ran to the flames, his feet leaving deep ditches in the dirt and flattening entire trees. As he approached, the hut sagged then collapsed in a shower of burning embers. Eren moaned in agony, hurriedly throwing water onto the fire. Steam immediately rose, hissing and sizzling, the wood cracking and popping as it split. The flames quietened for a fraction of a second before rising again. 

Voices rose through the roar of the fire. Led by Mikasa was a long line of people carrying buckets of water. Each scampered up as close to the hut as they dared to splash water onto the walls. Meanwhile, Eren had sprinted back to the shore and returned with another handful of water. He dumped it directly onto the flames and flushed out the fire. The heat remained but the light was gone. Bathed in darkness, silence fell as everyone watched the steam continue to drift into the sky. The remnants of the hut groaned, emitting feeble sparks. 

“It’s out,” someone said. Another person let out a faint sob. 

One by one they turned their backs, empty buckets clanging as they returned home.

* * *

“Gone?”

Armin felt a heavy hand on his shoulder but didn’t look up. “Gone,” he echoed, kicking aside the burnt debris and charred remains of the smokehouse. 

“That’s unfortunate.”

Without meaning to, Armin turned and snapped, “If you have nothing constructive to say I’d rather you didn’t say anything at all.”

The hand on his shoulder didn’t leave; in fact, it travelled up across the back of Armin’s neck, then along the side of his face. He felt a light kiss on his head. Then Erwin turned and left. 

And later, when Erwin proved to be doggedly determined in acting entirely civil over a tense lunch in the dining hall, Armin fumed.

* * *

They perfected the art of casting lines into the sea and reaped a bounty each time, but it had become something of a chore rather than a celebration. It was just as well, considering the last of the season’s calves had bowed to the heat and the only consolidation was wafer-thin slivers of veal for a week. Armin stuffed several sandwiches into his bag and set off for the coastline, empty jars clinking. He climbed up to the cliffside, where the dry grasses were waist-high and sea birds circled, and scooped soil samples into his jars and added drops of chemicals to them, then wrote down the results into his notebook. This occupied him for two whole days before he turned back, the isolation and emptiness of the open plains utterly consuming and relentless, having long forgotten what it was he’d originally set out to achieve. 

“I had a thought to pitch this blasted notebook into the Sea.”

Crouching in the wet sand, Erwin continued to fasten ropes around his latest driftwood find. His hair was salt-crusted and wild in the cool wind and the stubble on his chin grew thick and golden, as he worked methodically with the ties. Then he straightened and took hold of one end of the rope, giving it a test tug. “What stopped you?” 

Armin approached from behind and slipped his arms around Erwin’s waist. “Haven’t the faintest idea,” he said, laying his head in the dip between Erwin’s shoulder blades. He felt the muscles of Erwin’s back tense, the expansion of Erwin’s ribcage with each deliberate and measured breath. Armin waited what felt like an eternity until Erwin slowly, cautiously, began to relax. “I’m terrible at this sort of thing.”

“Well, I hope you don’t plan on apologising,” Erwin murmured, glancing over his shoulder, just able to catch Armin’s eye. 

“No danger of sentimentality here.” 

Erwin let go of the rope and turned into Armin’s embrace. He looked down the length of the empty foreshore for a moment. “Good.” 

Armin held his breath unconsciously, as though he were drowning against the tide of a storm, until Erwin kissed him and Armin let go of his reservations and met Erwin’s lips eagerly, taking his time to learn the shape of Erwin’s mouth and the feel of his tongue against his own, the feel of stubble coarse against his cheek. 

“Come on, then.”

Armin took hold of the rope and together they dragged it along the beach, leaving a winding rivet in the sand like the trail of a giant snake. Every now and then, their gazes would meet and Armin would feel a kind of warmth spread inside him like softened butter on toast, from the middle of his chest all the way to his toes. And Erwin would point out some intricate geological formation in the distance to save them both the indignity of having to acknowledge whatever had sprung up between them. 

They finally pushed the old wooden planks onto the deck out the front of the workshop. 

“It’s beautiful,” said Armin, wiping his brow, following Erwin inside. 

“It’s a bit of an old ship,” Erwin replied, clapping him on the shoulder. “Tea?”

“No.” Armin kissed Erwin suddenly, fiercely. He pulled back, cheeks flushed. “I mean, no thank you. I’d rather…”

Erwin raised an eyebrow. When Armin wasn’t forthcoming with any further explanation, he began to make his way to the backroom. Armin leapt out and pulled on Erwin’s arm to stop him. “Armin, really, what—”

“Just stop. Wait.” Armin pushed Erwin against the workbench. “Fuck.” He dropped to his knees and began to tug at the fastening on Erwin’s trousers, his fingers suddenly clumsy. He swatted Erwin’s hand away impatiently, and finally the trousers fell open. He reached in, pushed aside the scrap of underwear and took hold of Erwin’s cock. Then he wetted his lips and took Erwin’s cock into his mouth and sucked, as hard as he could, while his hand gripped along the length. 

“Armin, some warning—” Erwin groaned, knees buckling for a second so that he had to grab onto the workbench for support. His eyes closed, lips parted. 

Armin continued to suck, his hands moving faster. He fell into an easy rhythm, bolstered by the small noises of pleasure coming from Erwin. Just as his jaw began to ache, Erwin pushed him away and came with a faint moan. He cupped his hand around his cock to catch each spurt of come. Armin passed him a rag. 

“Some warning, next time,” said Erwin again, voice rough. He wiped off the come onto the rag.

Armin cleared his throat and straightened. “You should offer me a nightcap after dinner.”

“Right. So, that’s still a no on the tea?”

Armin grunted. “Better check on the farm.”

* * *

“Not hungry?” Eren asked in an undertone as they sat at the dinner table. He raised an eyebrow at Armin’s untouched plate, the slow congeal of gravy smeared across greying slices of meat. 

Armin pushed it away, suppressing a shudder as Sasha immediately leaned across the table and speared the meat with a fork. “We don’t even know what killed the cow. It could have been diseased but everyone was in too much of a rush to butcher it and now we won’t know. The disease could’ve already spread to the other livestock.”

“Armin, it’s pretty obvious what killed the cow,” said Mikasa, who thankfully managed to contain some enthusiasm for the food windfall. “They’ve all been growing weaker by the day. We need to move them up to the higher pastures.”

“The milk will sour by the time we make the half day trek back,” said Eren. “Besides, I can’t imagine many volunteers for the task.” 

Armin said, “It’s fine, we’ll just have to make fishing our primary industry.”

“I thought research and development was our primary industry,” said Eren. 

Armin resisted the urge to make a face. “Food has taken up so much of my time there’s barely been any progress at all with cataloguing the new marine species.”

“It’s not just your time.” 

Armin skipped dinner altogether when the conversation turned to their fledgling crop, and spent the next few hours furiously scribing new developments into his notebook regarding their small but varied collection of reptiles, taking note of their movement and habits and making the occasional sketch that, frustratingly, was always rendered with embarrassingly humanistic smiles. He wrote until the sun set completely and he had to light a lamp to avoid bumping into the cartons of dried flora yet to be investigated.

By the time he set off for Erwin’s bedroom door, which was located in the corner of the barrack building right next to the staircase so it was busy and noisy as anything, the trade-off for the larger room and two windows, Armin’s mind had run the gauntlet several times on the back of Mikasa’s piercing rebuke. He felt ill as he knocked, even worse when he entered. 

Erwin gave him a drink. It was something thick and golden-coloured, served in a small glass. Armin knocked it back in a single go, wincing at the sweetness of it. “Sorry. That wasn’t expensive, was it?”

“Regardless.”

Armin sat down in the armchair pressed up next to the window. There was a view of the soaring cliffs lit by moonlight. “Oh, there’s the aniseed.” He set down the glass abruptly. Now that he was actually there, in Erwin’s bedroom, trying not to notice the way Erwin calmly sipped at his own glass while perched at the end of the bed, his heart thundering inside of his ribcage, Armin thought that he might have misjudged everything. 

“Erwin,” he said suddenly, having come to this realisation. “Regarding what I said earlier, it might have raised certain expectations of what would transpire this evening.”

“It’s fine,” said Erwin, the corner of his mouth lifting just a fraction.

“That is to say, I’m not entirely backing out nor do I consider anything to have been a mistake…”

Erwin snorted and set his glass aside. He looked good like that, younger and less concerned about the world at large, even though nothing about the situation seemed particularly amusing. He got up and walked over to where Armin was sitting, then leaned over the armchair, bracing himself against one of the arms so that his face was mere inches away. “Armin, it’s fine,” he said in a low voice. He kissed Armin softly, a lingering thing fragrant with liqueur, then straightened back up. “We’re not executing an action plan here. Goodnight.”

* * *

The lantern swinging from Armin’s hand flickered a hazy amber path along the beach. They were buffeted by the susurrating wind slipping through crisp leaves and the sea’s dull moan; this early in the morning, it was easy to feel as though they were walking towards the edge of infinity. Eren leaned heavily against Armin’s shoulder, his eyes half-closed as he trampled along the dry sand. 

“I understand why you want to do this, but why does it have to be at the crack of dawn?”

“It’s meant to be a surprise.”

“The giant flash of lightning and sonic boom might ruin the surprise.”

But in the end, Eren did it anyway. He transformed into his titan and, growling loud enough to wake all the slumbering birds, picked up the hull segment of the shipwreck. It looked bowl-sized in his hands. Then he deposited it outside of the workshop, picked up Armin onto his shoulder, and together they gleefully traversed the giant curvature of the coastline while crimson light shone from the far horizon. They climbed up the cliffside, a feat that had taken Armin two days but was a matter of only a few minutes for Eren’s giant footsteps, and sat at the top of the outcrop to watch the remainder of the sunrise. 

Steam sprung up next to him. The next time Armin looked over, Eren was back to his human form. 

“I feel as though I overuse the word but this really is beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Just a heads up: beauty might not be enough for some of the others.”

* * *

True enough, no sooner had Armin finished packaging his scientific report regarding the rock creatures for publication within the Walls, he was accosted by a member of the agronomy research team. To be fair, he had been headed toward the farmlands anyway and it was not so unusual to cross paths with someone from the eight-strong team. 

“Hello, Armin!” called Helene, who in spite of the cheerful tone had developed a worry line and a certain tension in the corner of her mouth. She trotted to catch up with him, and nodded at his parcel stamped for Mitras. “You’ve been industrious this month.”

“A few loose ends have come together all at once,” Armin replied politely, although allowed himself a pleased grin. 

“I’m glad to hear at least one of us is having some good luck.” They could see the farmland from where they stood; it was golden under the midday sun, gleaming although sparse. Helene shifted from one foot to another. “Think our luck’s run out, to be honest. Haven’t managed to grow much this past month. Or this past year, in fact.” She chuckled and Armin felt compelled to do the same even though his insides were squirming. 

He cleared his throat as the laughter subsided. “We managed through Winter without too much heartache.”

Helene smiled but nonetheless looked away. They began their approach to the farmlands, where the scraggly corn wilted under the heat. “Well, we won’t always have the benefit of supplies from the Wall. I mean, if we’re to be as self-sustaining as we’d set out to be.” She leapt across the cracked irrigation trench into the corn field and inspected an ear of corn that had under-formed so that it dangled from the stalk like a knitted slipper. “Armin, what I’m saying is, we’re running out of ideas for how to make this work.”

Armin remained rooted to the spot, his jaw starting to ache from the effort of smiling. “We’re a research outpost. If everything was exactly the same as inside the Walls, there’d be nothing new to discover.”

“There comes a point where we need to seriously think about why we continue to do the things we do.” She turned around. “Armin, this new world is so vast and we’re standing on the smallest fragment imaginable, we’re seeing merely a single brushstroke of an entire canvas.”

“I don’t want to give up on this land just because it’s different and it challenges my way of thinking.”

“I’m not looking for something easy, of course not. But this isn’t everything available to us and — and Armin, I don’t want a few hectares of infertile soil to be my life’s work.”

“It sounds like you’ve already come to a decision.” When Helene gave him a sad smile, Armin drew in a deep breath. “Who else?”

“A few others. If it’s all right with you, we’ll be leaving in a week’s time for the Wall. And it’s probably time you looked at transporting some of the samples back to the capital too, or you’ll run out of space in the research building.” She approached him and placed a hand on his arm. It was a gentle enough touch but it made Armin’s skin crawl all the same. “I’ll take your parcels too, if you like. ”

* * *

“Wave,” said Mikasa in a tone of voice that left little room for argument. 

Armin waved at those travelling back to the safety of the known world, the gilded cage of the Walls, returning to the arms of a needy mother. He waved and it felt like good riddance, as though they were taking all the doubt and negativity and criticism with them too, not just half the research samples and a sizeable portion of the alimentary supplies, and the bulk of Armin’s neatly wrapped research papers. He thought about asking them to send some more specimen jars and reams of papers but in the end decided that the less he lived in expectation of something from the Wall, the better it was for him to move beyond this temporary obstacle. 

The research building echoed once more as Armin set foot into it. He scrubbed the skeletal corals clean, sweat dripping down his nose, shirt sticking to his back, until the air was too thick to breathe properly, so dense with dust and the heaviness of the heat, and he was forced to pack away the tools. 

It was only just after mid-day but Armin doused himself off with water, stripped off completely, and fell into his bed. When he woke up, it was to a silent, slumbering barrack, as everyone else too had sought to escape the heat by dreaming. 

Sweat made everything sticky, clammy, but he felt too lethargic to do much about it, and went back to sleep.

* * *

The dining hall was almost empty when Armin emerged from his bedroom well past midnight. A thin sheen of mugginess lingered in the air but it was gradually dissipating from the strength of the sea breeze; he no longer felt so light-headed and exhausted. In fact, he was ravenous and cheerfully descended into the larder for a selection of cured and potted fish, a luxuriously thick slab of pale butter and a heel of stale bread. He took a seat at the table and began to fashion himself a sandwich, when one of the other occupants came to take the seat opposite his. 

“Healthy appetite. I take it you’re completely awake now?”

Armin set down his half-formed meal, breaking into a grin. “Erwin! Just barely awake, it seems — I didn’t even notice you. What do you think: stay awake all night and push through the day, or force in a few more hours of sleep?”

“Best of luck if you decide on the restless hours of staring at the ceiling,” Erwin replied. His hair was slightly dishevelled, as though he’d only just risen from his bed moments ago, but he was garbed for adventure. A rucksack slung across his body. When Armin peeked under the table, he saw that Erwin was wearing thick-soled walking boots. 

“You’re not also thinking of running away, I hope,” said Armin dryly, and took a rather vicious bite from his sandwich.

Erwin looked on, amused. “Once you’ve swallowed that mouthful of churlishness, how about you find out?”

They took off into the clarity of the night. Armin brought along a small lantern but he needn’t have bothered; the moonlight was a crisp white and sharp enough to illuminate their ascent to the peak of the overhanging cliff and Erwin had clearly traversed the rocky path many times prior judging by the sure-footedness of his movements and the tunnel of bent, scrawny branches en route. Even so, Armin took care when scrabbling up the sudden incline, even falling to his hands to climb to the peak. By contrast, Erwin’s large strides and a powerful, fluid hoist from his sole arm brought him to the skillion landing with ease. 

At the edge of the promontory was a soaring view of the inky sea. A sudden gushing wind buffeted against Armin as he stood, pushing him a step back directly into the path of a surprised Erwin. 

“Careful,” Erwin murmured, taking the opportunity to wrap his arm around Armin’s waist. 

The heat from Erwin’s body was welcome despite the sticky humidity; it was a soothing contrast to the tumultuous roaring of the sea. Armin leaned into it contentedly, basking in the sense of calm that settled into his bones. His eyes closed in tandem with a sigh. 

Erwin’s grip suddenly tightened. “Barely awake, indeed. Come here.” 

They settled onto dry patch of reedy grass, Armin still tucked against Erwin’s side, his cheek pressed against the jutting ridge of Erwin’s collarbone. He heard the shrill buzz of insects in the scrub and the steady sound of their breathing, and wanted to bury himself within it as though digging deep into the earth. It was no longer clear if time was passing quickly or slowly. High above, the stars continued a coruscating dance along the dark band of sky, forming shapes within clusters within images — and when Armin mentioned this to Erwin in a ponderous sort of way, Erwin leaned in and brushed his lips against Armin’s forehead, then the soft skin of his temple, and finally upon Armin’s waiting lips. 

Armin moaned, hands reaching to caress the strong line of Erwin’s jaw, returning the kiss without hesitation, drowning in the taste of him, the feel of his body, the stretch of taut muscle beneath his hands. He pressed Erwin to the ground and was met by the heady scent of a baked, dry crust of soil; beneath him, Erwin relaxed and enfolded Armin back towards him, nestled in the comfort of one another. 

The wind swelled once more and Armin tried to release into it the worries that had been gnawing way at him, but it swirled and doubled back from the opposite direction, as though loathe to leave. The thoughts wriggled through like the rancid scent of rotting refuse; it was exhausting to keep everything contained. He lay there, quite lost within the multitude of indolent kisses dispersed between the occasional brush of Erwin’s fingers through his hair, each bringing about a kind of giddy resignation, until the murky brown of dawn threatened on the lip of the horizon. With it came the bitter bite of reality.

“Will this all end, I wonder,” he whispered, half-praying that Erwin had fallen asleep and wouldn’t hear the edge of fear that crept into his voice. 

But sleep seemed far from Erwin’s mind. “Why should it?” he asked. 

“There are only so many things we can learn from the sea. A finite list of pelagic curiosities.” Unease burbled up inside of Armin once more, a sensation to which he was fast becoming accustomed. “Perhaps I’m a fool for wanting to reach the end and close this case. I’m treating it like a mission.”

“There is a certain elegance in leaving things a mystery.”

Having barely heard Erwin over the thundering of his own galloping mind, Armin continued, “Or maybe it’s arrogance to think that I will uncover them all.”

“Armin.” 

“Does your shipwreck ever feel like a burden of expectation, a task that must be completed, instead of something done for the joy of it?”

“No. The shipwreck is just a shipwreck, and working on it occasionally gives me pleasure,” Erwin replied in a matter-of-fact way. His voice then softened although held an undertone of reproach. “But I suspect that’s not what you wanted to hear.”

It wasn’t, but Armin didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of admitting it so.

* * *

With a reduced task force at hand, the decision was made to abandon the upper fields and refocus their energy on salvaging the ones closest to the settlement. Armin worked upon the scotched soil with mattock firm in both hands, callouses forming along each ridge of his palms, shaping the remnants of the cropland. A short distance away, other researchers were sluggishly exchanging anecdotes in a bid to keep spirits high but the weather was too stifling to stimulate much conversation. 

Armin glared at the soil instead, the crease upon his forehead deepening with each dull thud of the mattock. He didn’t remember much of the time in between the fall of Wall Maria and joining the military, but scraping and heaving through an already ravaged field felt familiar in the same way that an empty belly felt painfully familiar. His shirt sweated through but there was no wind to cool him. 

Around mid-morning, they managed to clear the lower field of weeds and laid upon it a tarpaulin to bake the soil. When the sun became too much to bear, they retreated to the barracks for a nap but woke up no more invigorated.

* * *

The scent of rain was potent in the air, which was all anyone could talk about for a full week. Some of the heat had subsided, swiftly replaced with clammy sultriness that nonetheless was a welcome relief as the occasional cooling breeze drifted past. One afternoon, a crowd gathered upon the warm beach to watch scudding grey clouds loom upon the far horizon.

Scowling, Armin marched up to them. “We need to make preparations for the storm, not sit around sightseeing! The windows haven’t even been boarded up yet.”

But he was met with rolled eyes and outright laughter. “Relax, Armin. We’re just appreciating nature. You should too; come on, take a seat.”

Despite Armin’s comprehensive explanation regarding the necessity of taking precautions, his audience was soon lost to the gathering clouds and frosty grey-ness climbing above the distant sea, and the occasional spit of seawater toward the shore. Seabirds circled in dizzying swoops, shrieking and crying with each plunge in the weather. He surveyed the converging storm clouds for a moment longer, a frown crossing his brow, and left in search of someone who would listen. 

“It’s been a long time. They’re excited, is all,” said Erwin, who had been silent at labour throughout Armin’s ventilation.

Armin brushed away at the dust and chips littering the workbench before leaning against it. “It’s irresponsible.”

He was soon met by Erwin, who set down the adze in hand with a little shrug. “Perhaps. But labelling it such isn’t going to change anything.” Erwin wiped at the dust set in his scruffy beginnings of a beard, then dipped his head to press his lips to Armin’s, so emphatic that Armin was sure it was all a rouse just to shut him up. 

Nonetheless, he allowed himself to be taken into the moment of quiet, simmering heat, only breaking for breath upon a warning crackle of thunder in the distance. 

“Are you going to help me or not?” he muttered, edging away and rightening his shirt collar. Hearing no reply, Armin glanced up sharply. “We weren’t exactly building for gale-force winds and by the looks of this brewing storm, it’s going to be damned near close. I said all of this at least a week ago but did anyone listen? Of course not. Instead everyone’s so fixated on the possibility of rain to care much about the consequences—”

“Is it so bad to have something to look forward to?” 

Mouth still parted mid-sentence, Armin’s frown turned from indignant to irritated. “Don’t,” he grumbled, shifting with impatience when Erwin ran a thick finger along the side of Armin’s cheek. “Does none of this matter?”

The corner of Erwin’s mouth quirked into a languid smile as he continued to stroke up and down Armin’s face, fingers occasionally brushing against Armin’s lips. He lifted a brow, just subtle enough to be denied. 

Armin drew in a shaky breath, unconsciously leaning into the touch and finding himself soon transfixed by the sensation of Erwin’s fingers against his mouth, the way the fingertips dipped inside so that Armin could taste the saltiness of them. “D-don’t trivialise my concerns,” he stuttered.

“I’m merely appreciating your passion,” Erwin replied in a low voice, advancing until he had Armin pinned against the bench with a heavy press of the hips. 

Armin’s breath caught at the back of his throat. He shivered under the darkening of Erwin’s gaze. “The weather has driven you mad. Stop trying to distract me from - from things that must be done. Oh.” His lips parted with Erwin’s coaxing, and took two of Erwin’s fingers into his mouth, sucking. “The storm,” he garbled faintly.

“Will not be here for at least another day.” Erwin licked his lips slowly as though in anticipation of a feast; there was a hunger present in his eyes that Armin had not seen in a long time. He popped his fingers out delicately and made a move to turn. “All the time in the world.”

“Hilarious,” Armin growled, breathing shallowly, and grabbed at the front of Erwin’s shirt. The little smirk on Erwin’s face confirmed Armin’s suspicions but far from being angered by it, Armin felt himself grow hard between the legs. “Fuck,” he muttered as he closed the gap between them without hesitation, lurching at Erwin’s mouth and kissing him hard. 

His arms encircled Erwin’s neck to anchor himself, all the while unable to stop kissing as though he might lose his resolve should he falter. Desire mounted inside of him like a beast. His body surged with every touch, every hot brush of tongue and lips and breath, steeped in wanting. “You’re the worst sort of distraction,” he said in a rush. 

“Good,” Erwin murmured, and hoisted Armin up onto the bench. He undid the fastenings of Armin’s trousers, and his hand plunged inside to take hold of Armin’s stiffening cock. 

A sudden gust of wind swept through the workshop, biting at exposed skin. Armin shivered, hands fisting in the front of Erwin’s shirt, heart fiercely hammering inside his ribcage like a war drum. He groaned as Erwin began to stroke along the length, and soon enough Armin was painfully erect and leaking precome, his slender cock red and demanding within Erwin’s achingly slow, sure grip. 

“Tease,” Armin managed through gritted teeth, earning himself a low chuckle from Erwin. “Oh, fuck, please.” He startled when he saw Erwin watching him intently in return, the slate gaze piercing a searing shard right through. Embarrassment crept inside his stomach. His cheeks flushed dark red. It was pathetic to be rendered so helpless within such a simple pleasure. Armin hung his head, sweaty forehead crammed against his knuckles where his fists were still balled tight into Erwin’s shirt, panting hard and trying to stifle each moan but it was so damned difficult when Erwin stroked him just right—

“Don’t,” whispered Erwin at Armin’s feeble attempt to hide. “I want to see you enjoy it.”

When Armin finally lifted his head to look Erwin dead in the eye, the contact was utterly electrifying, as though Armin was drowning inside of himself, as though the storm was raging through him. “Erwin,” he panted weakly, writhing against Erwin’s hand.

Erwin’s gaze was firm, his voice like steel. “Don’t look away.” 

But Armin couldn’t even if he tried. It wasn’t long before the pressure mounted in his groin and he came with a choked cry. Gasping, he shuddered in the wake of his orgasm, and met Erwin’s lips with a sigh of relief. Erwin kissed him, gently, before stepping away to wipe at the smeared come. 

“Come on, the weather’s turning,” said Erwin when he finished cleaning up, and Armin had carefully slid off the bench and fastened his trousers once more. As though on cue, a gust of wind whipped through the workshop, toppling stray pieces of driftwood from where they leaned against the wall. Tools fell to the floor with a clatter. “Armin?”

“I don’t want to go back just yet,” mumbled Armin. 

Erwin didn’t say anything for a moment. There was something knowing in the way he look at Armin when he nodded. “All right.”

While Erwin made tea, Armin stepped into the shipwreck and tucked himself into the wedge-shaped enclave created by the ship’s hull, breathing in the scent of rust and the ancient. There were gaps in between the weathered planks, caulking having eroded away long ago, so slivers of the wind were still able to slip through bringing goosebumps to Armin’s skin. Thunder crackled offshore and rumbled towards them like the taunt of a brawl. When Erwin returned, Armin pulled him down and they sat nestled at the base of the ship together, hands curled around hot mugs of tea and the steam misting their faces dewey. 

With the walls of the ship rising toward the ceiling in a clumsy attempt to shield them, Armin rested against the steady cadence of Erwin’s heart and listened to the approaching storm. 

At some point he must have fallen asleep because he woke to a darkened sky, a cold mug of tea on the floor and the sound of rain pelting against the roof, all of which he would have been content to ignore in favour of burrowing against Erwin’s warmth if it weren’t for the sudden, fierce draught barrelling into the workshop with a roar. The rain thickened into fat bullets, smashing against the roof and the walls. Each beat sounded like the approach of a thousand angry footsteps. 

“We should get going,” Erwin said, leaning close to Armin’s ear. 

“Yeah.”

* * *

“Where the fuck have you been?’ Eren bellowed into the main hall of the barracks, face bloated red, eyes glinting dark and feral as he advanced. “We thought you were caught out!”

“We were,” Armin confirmed, impressed by his own calm. He brushed a sheaf of sopping hair from his forehead; a great squeeze of rainwater splattered onto the slick floorboards. Water stung at his eyes as he tore off his sodden, muddy boots. “I’m thoroughly soaked.”

Behind him, Erwin cleared his throat. “We thought the workshop could withstand the rain. That was a miscalculation.”

Eren visibly struggled to remain civil, his eyes almost bulging out of his skull. Deciding to pretend not to have heard Erwin at all, he continued to round on Armin. “That’s it?”

“There’s more?” Armin replied blandly, his wet socks squelching with each step to the staircase. “It’ll be good for the crops. Give the remaining livestock something to drink. The water tank will be full.” He’d barely made it halfway up the stairs when he was slammed against the balustrade. The unyielding rail dug painfully against his spine. “And I need to dry off.”

Below, Erwin slipped toward the end of the hall, his form fluid like liquid through the stillness. Armin willed for Erwin to catch his gaze, give an indication that something had passed between them, even a kind of embarrassed empathy, but there was nothing. Erwin simply retreated into another room. 

It stung more than Armin cared to admit, especially when the taste of Erwin’s mouth was still fresh on his mind. 

“We were worried,” said Mikasa, coming up the stairs. 

Armin composed himself with a long breath. “It’s just a bit of rain,” he muttered, shrugging out of Eren’s grasp. Exhaustion started to set in. The mad dash along the shifting, soggy beachfront had been exhilarating but now he struggled to focus on anything other than the alluring comfort of his own bed. “This is nothing. Wait until the real storm hits. That will give you something to get excited about.”

His friends trailed him into the bedroom, silent as Armin stripped, did a cursory towel off, then bundled into warm clothes. His hands were wrinkled, trembling as he managed the buttons of the sagging cardigan. 

“Look, I wasn’t going to bring this up now,” said Eren haltingly, exchanging a guilty look with Mikasa. “But since you’ve mentioned it … maybe we shouldn’t stay until the real storm hits.”

“Less than a day ago, the prospect of a little rain had you practically champing at the bit.” Armin crawled into bed and leaned against the wall. His pale toes poked out from the trouser cuffs. Eren and Mikasa joined him on the bed, one on either side, a stifling kind of warmth. 

“It was hot and we all wanted a bit of relief. But that’s not the point. Maybe Helene—”

“Helene decided to quit.”

“—realised that we have options. We have an opportunity to start again. Isn’t that what we set out to do in the first place?” Eren managed a forced laugh that sounded like a strangled fowl. “We’re a research outpost. And we should keep doing that. This isn’t home.”

A low groan escaped in lieu of adequate words. This was home, he wanted to retort. This was more of a home, under the baking sun and brittle grass and constant moan of the sea, then the looming Walls had ever been. 

“This place—”

Mikasa cut him off, “Is doomed.” Realising the abrasiveness of her words, Mikasa awkwardly patted the back of Armin’s hand but her words continued to sting, like cuts from a thousand paring blades. “It’s time to face reality. Be practical. Look, you wanted to discover the sea — and you have — but it’s huge. This isn’t the only place where we can be close to it. This might be the first site but it won’t be the last. Don’t stay for the sake of sentimentality.”

“You’re talking as though this is a dead end but it’s so much more. This is humanity’s greatest re-discovery—”

Mikasa gave him a disappointed look. “That’s your pride talking, and it’s going to be the death of us.”

“Armin.” Eren heaved in a sigh. “You did such a damned fine job of leading us into a new era, always racing ahead of the crowd with your gaze set on the future but this … this isn’t it. Out of us, you’re the one left clinging to the past.”

“Is it wrong to have a little pride in my work? You think I should just abandon everything we’ve achieved, so this will all have been for nothing? I want it to mean something.”

With a growl of impatience, Eren jumped off the bed. He paced a few steps, shoulders tense, hands curling into fists. “Then we’ll call it Arminville or Arletton or Armin’s Great Fucking Discovery. We’ll make sure it’s printed in every single schoolbook and commission half a dozen commemorative statues.” He blew out a great puff of air in some clumsy attempt for calm. “Look at yourself. Skin and bone. We’ve won the war but we’re still starving, still blistering our hands just to get enough to eat. You think that’s living? Can you honestly go back in time to your kid self and tell him that you’ve chosen to live this way?”

Armin bristled. “Well, what the fuck did you think would happen? That the war would end and everything would fall perfectly into place? That everyone would come dancing onto the street, every single problem miraculously fixed just because we’re no longer hunted by titans. That we wouldn’t have to toil and sweat to build ourselves a new world?” His lip curled into a sneer. “If you want an easy life then go back to your precious Walls. You’re a hero there, after all. It’ll be endless parties and accolades for you. Go on. But I won’t be joining you because I don’t give up. I’m not a fucking coward.”

Without warning, Eren lunged for the front of Armin’s shirt, his face contorted with anger. “Pretty fucking rich coming from you,” he snarled. The moment he said the words, it was clear he regretted them but Eren was already in too deep, and covered it up by glowering. His jaw clenched. 

Armin snorted, even as Eren dragged him half-off the bed. “Go on,” he said, eyebrow arched in challenge. “Do it.”

For a moment, it seemed that Eren wanted to say more — or perhaps simply to punch him in the face — but then he just shoved Armin away with a disgusted growl. Armin landed in a heap on the bed. Mikasa pushed him aside as she stood and made to leave.

“You can be a real shit,” she said, pausing at the door. “Your selfishness knows no bounds.” The sound of her boots on the floorboards reverberated down the corridor. 

Eyes downcast, Armin pulled himself upright, a humiliated flush colouring his cheeks at how easily he could be pushed around, as though he were little more than a pile of rags. His blood simmered into a slow boil, adrenaline flooding his body until suddenly, the anticipation of a fight was all he could taste. Yes — he could do with a good scrap. Sure, he wasn’t as physically fit or strong or fast as others but Armin had always been the brains of the unit. He was the person most trusted by the Commander at the height of the battle. And he was _always_ fucking right.

He dove at Eren, driving deep with his weight to knock them both off balance. Eren collided sharply against him, tumbling into a sprawl, arms automatically springing up defensively before Armin had even considered what he was trying to achieve. Punch Eren in the face? Jab him hard in the stomach? Simply shout himself hoarse? 

“This isn’t the only place where you can be — be yourself,” Eren said in a rush. Seeing Armin’s hesitation, Eren wrapped his hands around Armin’s wrists. There was so much strength in them.  “The things you want. That kind of life, I mean.”

“What are you talking about?” Armin shouted. His fists tightened, squeezing the damp from Eren’s shirt. He looked at his hands, breath catching, and saw that Eren’s shirt was dark with water, Eren’s hair slick and clumped together with rain. “You’re wet.”

“I went looking for you, you stupid prick.” Eren pushed Armin away easily and sat up, hunched over, suddenly unable to look Armin in the eye. His voice was quieter now. “When you didn’t come back, we went looking for you in the rain.”

Armin stared at him, caught up in something he didn’t want to understand. No, Eren couldn’t possibly have seen him and Erwin together. They would’ve heard someone snooping about. _Erwin_ definitely would have noticed. They had been … discreet, hadn’t they?

He swallowed around the lump lodged in his throat, already knowing the answer. “And?” he asked in a small voice, bracing himself in spite of the panic flaring up hot and sharp inside. 

To his credit, Eren’s voice was steady. “And I couldn’t find you,” he said, glancing back at Armin, his eyes telling another story entirely. “Obviously.” 

When Armin didn’t say anything more, Eren took that as his cue to leave.

* * *

The storm hit sooner than expected, in the restless, simmering quiet of the night. 

Crackling thunder ripped Armin from his uneasy slumber. Someone was shaking him, their fingers digging bruises into his shoulder. 

Through the murky window, a flash of lightning struck up the consuming sky with piercing white. Heavy pellets of rain burst against the thin pane in a torrent. It was impossible to see through the blur — everything was vague, just shapes beyond his reach. 

Another hard shake. Goosebumps prickled along his forearms. Armin blinked against the gloom. 

“The windows won’t hold for much longer,” said Erwin, radiating urgency as he thrust a bundle of clothes at Armin. “Here, get dressed. Hurry.”

Without leaving time to think, Armin clumsily pulled on the clothes from yesterday. His fingers were still numb from cold, his head pounding from lack of sleep. He had only a silted awareness of the situation, as though he were viewing a snippet of the entire scene through the wrong end of a spyglass. “Where are we gathering?”

Erwin stuffed extra clothes into Armin’s knapsack and held it out. “Downstairs for now. Probably the cellar. Get your things. Just the things you need.”

“R-right.” Armin gathered the notebooks from his desk, the most precious things he owned, above all the useless trinkets and memorabilia from the Walls. His thumb brushed fondly against a worn corner as he slipped them into the knapsack. He hadn’t had much growing up anyway and anything valuable could easily be stolen — but his notes, his ideas and discoveries … they were worth a thousand lifetimes over. 

He was jostled from his reverie by Erwin tugging him toward the door. “Wait,” said Armin quickly, shouldering past Erwin. “There’s more. And the essays, too.”

Erwin grabbed a great stack of papers from the shelf and shoved it deep into the bag. 

“Just — be careful! What the fuck, Erwin?”

Even as the words left his mouth, Armin recoiled, the back of his neck burning with shame. He ought to apologise, of course. He smoothed down the crumpled paper, managing a somewhat contrite, “I’ve been working on these for a long time.”

Still, he caught the tail-end of an impatient frown from Erwin. “We don’t have time to waste.”

“I know that.” Annoyance stirred and crept up like a vine, growing ever stronger as Erwin continued to give him that pointed look. “I’m just saying … never mind.”

He stooped to sort the papers piled on the floor, squinting for the more polished essays but the gloom of the night made it near impossible. A bolt of lightning struck, sharpening the words into focus. He gathered as many papers as he could, perhaps more carefully than usual. It was petty, he knew, but that didn’t stem the ever-swelling sense that Erwin was missing the point entirely and had failed to recognise the significance of the papers. And now Erwin was surveying Armin’s entire life’s work as though it were nothing more than refuse to be tossed out as pig feed. 

Armin’s teeth clenched together. 

“Well?”

“I said wait,” Armin snapped. 

Erwin’s expression hardened like a statue. “That’s enough. Move away. _Now_ ,” he said in his most authoritative tone — the commander’s voice, the one that rang out confidently across battlefields and inspired unquestioning obeisance from all. 

Hearing it again sent a shiver down Armin’s spine, pooling into something he’d thought long abandoned … fear. For a moment, it paralysed him on the spot — he was trapped upon the Wall, staring into the vacant eyes of a titan, desperate to run but no way of escape … nowhere except the storm that battered furiously against the window pane. He sucked in a shaking breath but Erwin cut him off. 

“Save it. We’re going.”

And then Erwin left the room without another glance. 

Armin abruptly shut his mouth with a snap. Right. There were other things to worry about now. He stood, the fear rapidly coalescing into something else, a revulsion that knotted his stomach. How pathetic to be cowed again, to be so deeply affected by a man he considered an equal. Armin was no longer a child in need of guidance, a subordinate to be ordered about. The things they had done together — the intimacy of it — those shared moments … And now, to be patronised by someone whose entire contribution since the end of the war totalled half a wreckage of a ship!

He hoisted on his knapsack and took after Erwin, his mind reeling through the events of the past months. Their growing closeness, the easy companionship, both of them looking toward a better future, always on the same page … right? 

The words he wanted to say stuck in his throat, his emotions whirling through his body like the bleeding storm around them. Nothing had changed at all. He’d revealed his vulnerability, his awkwardness, his insecurities and Erwin gave him nothing more than a warm body to occasionally curl into, a nodding face to receive his ventilations. Just like that, with a few barked orders, they had reverted to the way things were before. Armin was back to nothing. 

No, he would not accept that. He’d come to these lands with purpose. The head administrators had personally selected him as one of the forerunners for the expedition. They had faith that he would lead humanity into the next stage of history. 

The great blustering gale outside steadily blew away the doubt clouding his mind as he clattered down the staircase. Beyond, the wind howled ferociously from the sea in violent bursts that shook the floorboards beneath his feet, like the defiant roar of conquest. The walls trembled, brimming with tension. A thrumming anticipation flickered inside Armin’s chest, brewing. 

He’d pledged his life for the sake of humanity, and he would drag this pitiful cluster of humans toward their destiny, if that was what it took. They were not going to throw it all away, not when they were so tantalisingly close to victory. 

Calm set into his bones. His knapsack swung snugly between his shoulders, the weight of it reassuring. Branches pounded the side of the barracks, cracking as they tore apart, but Armin no longer viewed it as a threat. 

“Erwin,” he said, coming to stand before the other man. 

Erwin gave a taut smile and briefly squeezed Armin’s shoulder, drawing him in close for a moment. “Just need to weather this storm,” he murmured, then returned to flicking through attendance lists. He made a proud, solid check next to Armin’s name. 

Armin clamped his hand over Erwin’s. “Not yet.” The burning of Erwin’s gaze petered against the clarity that rang loudly through Armin, bright like a gasp of icy air. “I’m going to collect the samples. They need to be protected.”

The rapid-fire calculations racing through Erwin’s head were practically visible. “We haven’t got time for that,” said Erwin finally, slowly. He pulled his hand away. 

“We’re a research outpost,” Armin said, his breath quickening as everything fell into place. He could have laughed at the absurdity of it — they’d reached the end of the known world and it was time to plunge into the darkness beyond. “Time is the only thing we’ve got. The samples. Data. My papers. They’ll be lost forever if we don’t act now.”

Erwin’s eyes were liquid fire, searing into Armin’s soul. “Then that’s how it must be. It’s not worth braving this weather for the sake of some papers. Now leave it.”

“It’s not just paper. It’s knowledge. It’s what we lost when our world was terrorised by the titans and it’s the only thing that will bring society back to what it was. And it is everything to me and I can’t abandon it. I won’t.”

“Don’t you dare—”

Armin flung open the front door, feeling nothing but pity for Erwin for not understanding at all, and plunged into the storm.

* * *

The rain struck him hard and fast, lashing against his body. He gasped at the onslaught, eyes stinging red almost immediately. He wiped at his face but it was useless — rain continued to thrash down again and again. Around him, the storm was deafening, relentlessly pummelling the soil with a wrathful roar. He heard the tinny shouting for him to return to the barracks but Armin had no intention of turning back now. 

Blood quickening erratically, adrenaline surging him on, Armin shoved his way through the dark and the kicking wind. A gust barrelled past at breakneck speed, so powerful that he could barely breathe. But even if he couldn’t see, he knew the path to the research building. He’d tread upon it a thousand times before, and was determined to continue to do so another thousand times more. 

“Armin, stop!”

His footsteps slid in the bogging mud that squelched over his boots and sprayed up his legs. He could taste dirt in his mouth, mixed with blood and rain. Without warning, his body jerked backwards and he tumbled, sprawling, smearing into the mud. 

Armin whipped around, clawing off the hand that held him. He saw Erwin’s gaunt, pale face quivering with rage, and staggered to his feet. “No!” he screamed, and shoved Erwin hard, sending him down into the mud. “Don’t you see? This is all I’ve got!” 

Erwin grabbed him again, trying to hoist himself up. “Your life is worth a thousand times more—”

A harsh bark of laughter ripped through Armin, high-pitched and wild, his entire body shaking from effort. “What the fuck would you know?” he shouted. “Everything you are, all that you’ve achieved, you left behind at the Walls. You spend your entire fucking day with that useless ruin of a ship like you think it means something but it’s nothing. It’s as good to me as myths and legends. As good as throwing yourself upon the Goddesses!” He tore away Erwin’s hand once more. The rain beat upon his back like tiny knives, so sharp he almost expected blood to run rivets in the ground. “I’m protecting your future — and you’re going to fucking thank me for this one day!”

“Is that what you want, Armin? You want gratitude?”

“Just shut the fuck up!” Armin burst out, his chest heaving. The cold penetrated his skin, tightening like a noose to strangle him. “You knew this would happen, didn’t you?” Eyes flashing with anger, he jabbed his finger at Erwin’s mud-splattered face. “You let this happen, damn you! The storm, the destruction, everything!”

Erwin glared at him through the haze. “I hope you’re not suggesting that I have any control over the weather—”

“Shut up! You’ve wanted this project to fail since the beginning. You’re just too much of a fucking coward to admit that you want to go back to the Wall.” He laughed again, voice bordering on hysteria. “So, all of you _go_ , if that’s what you want. Get the fuck out of here.”

Chest rising and falling rapidly, Erwin struggled in the slick and gingerly got to his knees. He reached out. “Armin—”

“Don’t you take another step!” Armin snarled, jerking back. His hand plunged immediately into his knapsack and from it, he drew a glint of silver. His cold, trembling fingers fit snugly around the cool metal. “Get back!”   
Erwin’s eyes widened. “Armin,” he said, fighting to keep his voice steady. “Put that down.”

But Armin just gripped the pistol even tighter and trained it directly upon Erwin’s head, panic welling up, trembling from head to toe. “I’ve killed before. I killed for you. And I’ll fucking doing it again if I have to.”

“Please, Armin—”

“I’m a fucking murderer! This is what you made me!”

“And I don’t for a second regret the man you’ve become,” said Erwin, his voice cracking. “But you are so much more than this moment.”

Armin laughed, again and again, the sound reverberating through the hollowness of his chest until tears fell down his face, burning hot against his cheeks, and he was shaking uncontrollably from the sobs that racked through him. He didn’t want to understand why, didn’t want to admit the real truth — just accepting the hurt and shame and devastation inside, stinging like acid sizzling on a raw, open wound until he could barely breathe. Perhaps, whispered the traitorous part of his mind, perhaps deep down he'd known it all along … and once that thought wrestled its way to the forefront of his mind, it was impossible to suppress the corybantic tide behind it: that it wouldn’t last, that it’d all been a waste of time, that he’d fucked up from the start all because of his own stupid fucking pathetic need to be worth something in this terrifying new world. 

He fell to his knees and Erwin was there to catch him. Armin burrowed his face into the crook of Erwin’s neck, his eyes squeezed shut, wishing he could hide himself in the darkness and warmth and strength there. 

Erwin tugged the pistol away from Armin’s limp fingers, and Armin left go of it gladly.

* * *

Pale, cold sunlight hit his face. At first, he saw nothing but the brightness of the sky, the clear blue that saturated everything in sight. It took his breath away. His throat was scratchy, as though a small rodent was trapped inside and scurrying desperately to escape. Armin scrubbed at his face. Before him, a wagon lurched precariously against a rough trench in the terrain as the horse, having long forgotten the feel of such weight upon its back, strained. 

Through the relucent haze lay the wake of the devastation: ground strewn with debris and rubble, stray lengths of torn wood huddled like cowed animals, drooping branches clinging gingerly to excoriated trunks. People criss-crossed on foot, carrying bundles and bags and armfuls of things. 

“Can you give the botanists a hand? Most of their stuff is falling off…”

“Well, I told them not to overload the wagons.”

This was it, he realised. With each hessian bag of grain dragged and hefted, every carefully-wrapped parcel of soil jutting reedy saplings stacked onto the wagon, they were eradicating evidence of what had been achieved upon this land. And soon, the cracked mud would no longer hold the shape of their footprints, the jagged track marks of wheelbarrows dusted over, and scraps of torn fabric left to flit within the whims of the wind. 

Armin sensed a presence sidle behind him, then felt the faint graze of lips against his temple. It was too late to feign surprise. He felt compelled to answer with a gesture of his own but everything seemed too contrived, two days too late. In the end, he abandoned the idea and just leaned into the arm around his waist. 

Since the encounter in the storm, Armin hadn’t spoken a word. The merest suggestion of vocalisation made his chest cave in, as though his body already knew whatever platitude about to spill from his mouth would be a lie. He swallowed, throat rough like sandpaper. His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. 

“You know, even as I look at this wretched scene, everything inside of me screams to stay. Does that make me selfish?”

Erwin didn’t reply for a long time. “I wouldn’t call it that.”

“In other words, yes. Completely. You needn’t tread so lightly when the damage is done.”

Erwin craned his head and spoke directly into Armin’s ear, his voice gentle like a caress. “At a young age you had everything taken away: your family, your home, your beliefs about the nature of this world. Then you grew older and willingly gave away what little you’d managed to salvage — your humanity — to serve others. And now you’ve finally got something that belongs to you, belongs entirely to you. Of course it’s painful to let go.”

Armin turned and looked up into Erwin’s steady, burning gaze. 

“However, this has become your cage,” said Erwin. “And you’re trapped inside of it, too frightened to leave. But now is the time to be brave, my love, and I think you know that better than the rest of us. You always have.”

Returning to the hive of activity sprawled before him, of human industry and resilience, Armin watched as his fellow researched struggled with indecision over prized possessions, the relief and embarrassed laughter of people who were on their way home. He no longer resented them, or even pitied them; he just watched silently for a few more moments, until the tightness in his chest began to ease and the wetness in the corners of his eyes dried up. 

In the distance, he heard the eternal crash of waves against the shore and it resonated throughout his body. It echoed into his weary bones, and pulsated within his heart.


End file.
